


heaven sent you to me

by foreverautumn



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Domestic, Feelings, Gift Giving, M/M, Touching, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, falling in love in the winter, season 1-2 era, slight scent kink but idk if that counts since this is hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:53:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28247229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreverautumn/pseuds/foreverautumn
Summary: “Well, here I am.” He glances up to meet Hannibal’s gaze.“Here you are,” Hannibal agrees, raising a hand to Will’s face. He imagines for a moment that Hannibal is about to lean in, and wonders whether he would let him. Will’s breath comes out a little short when he pulls back.“Is this why you ambushed me in the parking lot?”“Hardly an ambush,” Hannibal says amiably.(Will and Hannibal are growing closer, as are the holidays; Will finds himself looking forward to both.)
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 20
Kudos: 182





	1. every word

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically a sequel to ‘[walking in your landscape](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27086416/chapters/66138469)’, though it isn’t necessary to have read the former.

Will pauses a few steps from his car at the sound of his name. He questions whether he’d imagined it, but he knows he hasn’t quite lost his marbles just yet. 

Despite knowing who he’s about to see, something in his chest still reacts at the sight of Hannibal striding toward him.

“I’m glad I caught you,” Hannibal says. He reaches out to touch Will’s arm briefly as part of his greeting. Will’s still not entirely used to things like that.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, unearthing his gloves from a pocket. He’d been predicting a quick beeline to the car and hadn’t bothered to put them on earlier.

“I just finished up an errand in the area, and thought I would chance stopping by to see you.”

An easy explanation, at the ready. Will keeps his eyes trained downward, fiddling with his gloves.

“Well, here I am.” He glances up to meet Hannibal’s gaze.

“Here you are,” Hannibal agrees, raising a hand to Will’s face. He imagines for a moment that Hannibal is about to lean in, and wonders whether he would let him. Will’s breath comes out a little short when he pulls back.

“Is this why you ambushed me in the parking lot?”

“Hardly an ambush,” Hannibal says amiably. “I would like to extend a dinner invitation, if you are amenable.”

“You could’ve called. Or texted.” Will’s already mentally rearranging his plans for the evening. The dogs will be alright for awhile longer. Will had only come in for the painstaking holiday lunch gathering, unfortunately mandatory, managed to grade a few papers after escaping to his office, and rounded out the day with a meeting with Jack.

“I could have, but I didn’t think you would appreciate the interruption during your meeting.” Unsurprisingly Hannibal would remember that, and use it to his advantage. Will hadn’t told him about the party.

“Right. You’re right. But I also want you to know that none of this is necessary.” Hannibal tilts his head politely. Will raises an eyebrow, then leans forward just slightly. “I would have agreed to join you without the considerate ambush.”

Hannibal smiles. “Still an ambush, is it?”

“Of course it is. Now let’s get going.”

Will follows Hannibal in his own car, smile hovering at the corner of his mouth for most of the drive. There’s still a lot Will’s getting used to, but he thinks he could. Thinks he wants to.

Hannibal holds out a hand for Will’s coat once they step inside. Will stuffs his gloves haphazardly into his pockets and shrugs it off.

“I do know where to hang my own coat, Hannibal.” Still, he hands it over without any further prodding.

Hannibal accepts it graciously. “It just so happens that I do, as well.”

When he turns back after hanging Will’s coat as well as his own, he pauses, eyes trained to Will’s sweater. The slightest of hesitations, but it doesn’t escape Will’s notice. Will looks down at the familiar tacky design, featuring dogs in red hats and a painfully busy pattern throughout. He wears this sweater once a year, then tucks it safely back into the depths of his closet.

Hannibal is still eyeing it, seemingly without any words to offer, for once. Will can’t help a chuckle.

“Sorry, is there a dress code?” It’s difficult to suppress a smile when Hannibal finally drags his gaze away.

“I’m afraid if there were, you’d be in violation.” Hannibal runs a hand along the collar of the sweater, testing the feel of the fabric. His fingers travel slowly, eventually stopping to rest atop Will’s collarbone. “Appalling,” he murmurs, but there’s a crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he steps forward to kiss Will.

Will breathes out a sigh against Hannibal’s mouth, raising a hand to the back of his neck to keep him close. Warmth unfurls in his chest, spreads to everywhere they press together.

“Have you never seen an ugly sweater before?” Will murmurs.

“I must agree that it is indeed ugly.”

Will chuckles again, pressing his face into the curve of Hannibal’s neck. Hannibal runs his fingers through Will’s hair, a calculated move to keep Will pressed close. A mutually beneficial one.

“I fear I will be distracted all evening.”

“Your fault,” Will replies. “You’re the one who ambushed me, remember. You never would have known this thing existed if you hadn’t shown up like that.”

Hannibal guides his head back, looks into his eyes for a few long moments. Will feels something shift, and his fingers tighten in Hannibal’s shirt.

“I can think of nothing I don’t want to know about you.” He states it so plainly, as though he doesn’t know how it will affect Will.

He swallows, words dying in his throat. Hannibal watches him closely, his desire to see Will’s reactions as plain as ever. He has to remind himself that it’s not the examination of an intrigued doctor. 

Will rubs a hand over his face, then moves to step back. Hannibal unwinds from him carefully.

“I must see to our dinner,” Hannibal says after a moment, whisking himself off to the kitchen. Will feels unbearably stupid, standing alone in Hannibal’s hallway wearing his ridiculous dog sweater.

Will closes his eyes and sighs, briefly entertaining the idea of putting his coat back on and heading to his car. Instead, he follows after Hannibal, leaning against the counter to watch the other man in motion.

“Anything I can do?” he offers.

Hannibal looks up with a small smile. “It won’t take long at all. Mostly everything has been taken care of already.”

“I don’t know how you have the patience for these kinds of meals,” Will says, crossing his arms over his chest. He doesn’t mind cooking, but the effort that Hannibal puts in is truly something else.

“It does require patience, but that is not necessarily a bad thing.” Hannibal glances back at him. “I believe the results are worth it, in the end.”

Will shrugs. “Can’t really argue with that.”

Hannibal smiles, then drifts over to Will, gently prying his arms away from his chest. Before Will can question him, Hannibal says, “I found myself unable to enjoy the full splendor of your attire.”

Will laughs, shaking his head. “I think this is the most attention you’ve ever paid to my attire.”

Hannibal squeezes his arms once before letting go. “I do not often voice my thoughts on the matter, but please know that I am always paying attention.”

With that, he turns back to their dinner, leaving Will inexplicably flustered.

That strange, fluttery feeling remains in his chest throughout dinner. He wonders if Hannibal keeps a mental tally of just how many times he’s been able to catch Will off guard.

He’d already declined his invitation to Hannibal’s usual holiday gathering, but the thought of showing up for dinner dressed like this is almost enough to make him reconsider.

“I suppose your fancy holiday parties don’t feature ugly sweaters.”

“Perhaps they should,” Hannibal says. “I hadn’t known they could be so charming.”

Will feels the back of his neck heat up. “This is starting to feel like another aspect of the ambush.”

Hannibal chuckles softly. “Never. I have better table manners than that.”

Will raises his glass. “I suppose that you do.”

Hannibal raises his own in return.

After dinner, Will sticks around to assist Hannibal in cleaning up. Hannibal accepts the help with a soft, pleased curl to his mouth.

“It was delicious,” Will says unnecessarily. Anything he could conjure up to describe Hannibal’s cooking would only pale in comparison to the meal itself, so it’s best to stick to the simple and sincere.

Hannibal inclines his head. “I am glad that you enjoyed it.”

Will folds the towel in his hands and places it on the counter, then sighs. “I should head out.”

“Of course.” Hannibal steps toward him. “Thank you for indulging me.”

Will rolls his eyes. “Yeah, it was such a hardship eating the food placed in front of me.”

Hannibal gently cups the side of his neck, thumb brushing his skin. Will inhales sharply.

“You allowed me to ambush you at your work. To touch you much like this, where anyone could see.” Hannibal’s hand slips back into his hair, fingers grazing his ear. “You’ve shared a meal with me, assisted me with the clean up despite being my guest. I am hopeful I may also receive a kiss goodnight before you go, if I play my cards right.”

Will huffs a laugh, running his hand up Hannibal’s chest. “So now you agree that it was an ambush?”

“A mild ambush,” Hannibal concedes, tipping every so slightly closer.

Will raises an eyebrow. “Be honest. It’s the sweater, isn’t it?”

“Quite frankly, I don’t know if I’ve ever found you as utterly irresistible as in this very moment.”

Will laughs again, taps his hand against Hannibal’s chest once before leaning forward to kiss him. Hannibal meets him warmly, hand curling in Will’s hair.

“Good night,” he mumbles, smiling when he feels the slight twitch of Hannibal’s mouth against his own. The hint of a frown, perhaps. “Hm? I thought this was what you wanted.”

He opens his eyes to find Hannibal gazing back at him. His expression is open in a way that Will still can’t believe is because of him. Will feels a strange thrill every time.

Will tilts his head and presses closer, wrapping one arm around Hannibal’s back. His eyes drift closed again of their own accord.

He doesn’t want to leave. It’s a dangerous thought, one he can’t bring himself to dwell on. Instead, he kisses Hannibal again, and again, loses himself in the heat of his mouth, the heady pleasure of his body pressed so close.

Hannibal tastes like their dinner, the wine they’d shared. Like a fever, a rolling heat passed from his mouth to Will’s, one that could easily burn him whole. Will wants it like he’s never wanted anything else in his life. Hannibal clutches at him like he might just feel the same.

They breathe against each other when they pull apart. Hannibal tilts his head, presses his lips to his cheek and murmurs, “Will.”

“Yes?”

“If you were feeling particularly indulgent, might I convince you to stay a little longer?”

Will slides his fingers through Hannibal’s hair, eyelashes fluttering. “I didn’t know this was my good luck sweater.”

Hannibal chuckles, shifting so their noses brush together. “You consider this good luck, then?”

“It’s certainly not bad.”

Will lets himself be guided to the study by a warm hand at his back. Hannibal pours him a drink, and after he gets the fire going, joins him on the ridiculously comfortable couch with his own glass.

“I may not be very entertaining,” Will warns. He is full of good food, and his eyelids are suspiciously heavy.

“I beg to differ.” Hannibal raises an eyebrow, hiding his expression behind the rim of his glass. “I believe it impossible for me to be bored in your presence.”

The words warm Will more than the fire, despite telling himself how cliche it is. He huffs a laugh into his own drink, placing it to the side with a content sigh.

It’s pleasant, sitting together like this. Will feels his eyelids begin to drift closed, staying that way longer and longer.

“Will.”

He blinks rapidly, suddenly aware of himself again. “Sorry, I didn’t sleep very well.” 

Will rubs at his eyes. He doesn’t really want to talk about why he hadn’t slept well. He’s sure Hannibal already knows, just like he knows why Will had met up with Jack today to begin with. At least they seem to be getting closer to this killer.

“It’s quite alright.” Hannibal’s voice is quiet. “I only thought to offer for you to lie down properly, if you’d like.”

Will turns to him quizzically. “I don’t think there’s enough room for that. Unless you’re moving.” Hannibal’s expression tells him that he isn’t going anywhere. “Or you want my feet in your lap.”

Hannibal smiles. “If you would prefer. I had thought the other way around, perhaps.”

Will stares blankly for a few long moments. “You want me to…”

“Whatever you’d like.”

He simply watches Will, body language open, perfectly accommodating. Will forces himself to meet his eyes, not letting his gaze drift to the man’s lap.

“Are you serious?” he asks finally. A tingly shakiness creeps up the back of his neck, and he’s glad he’d already put his drink down.

“Of course,” Hannibal replies. He shifts his glass to his other hand and sets it aside, then actually pats one of his thighs. Will feels like he’s about to choke on his tongue.

It’s not a big deal. Not unless he makes it one.

With that in mind, Will shuffles sideways, carefully lowering himself to lie down in Hannibal’s lap. He’s facing the fireplace, eyes trained to the dancing flames while his heart thuds rapidly in his chest.

Will doesn’t realize that he’s waiting for anything, not until the moment Hannibal’s hand lands on his head. He fights a shiver, eyelashes fluttering closed when Hannibal’s thumb brushes gently over his ear.

This is - absurd. Perfect. He can feel his body locking up.

Hannibal’s fingers pause just briefly. Will takes a deep breath.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, keeping his eyes closed. Touching is one thing. This kind of gentle intimacy is enough to render Will’s throat tight.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Will.” Careful fingers rub at his temple. “Relax. That is all I want you to worry about.”

Will’s breath leaves him in a long exhale. Tentatively he brings one hand to curl around Hannibal’s knee.

He hadn’t thought to want closeness like this. The warmth of the fire and of Hannibal’s body beneath his begins to lull him.

“You can’t seriously want me to fall asleep like this,” he mumbles. Hannibal’s other hand rises to cup his shoulder, the touch gentling any tension still left in Will.

“I would welcome it,” Hannibal murmurs. He squeezes Will’s shoulder, runs the fingers of his other hand through the hair at Will’s forehead.

Will’s throat clenches up again. Part of him wants to flee, while he can barely stand the thought of it. He says nothing.

“Being with you like this is a gift.” Hannibal’s voice is soft, quiet, worms its way into Will’s heart like it’s always resided there. “I don’t take it lightly.”

Will’s next breath is more of a shudder. His fingers dig into Hannibal’s knee briefly before he forces himself to relax his hold.

“I don’t take anything you’ve granted me lightly, Will,” Hannibal murmurs. “I don’t imagine I ever will.” Will’s heart does something painful in his chest.

Without thinking, he reaches backward, grabs hold of Hannibal’s hand on his shoulder. “I don’t take it lightly, either,” he manages. 

He doesn’t. He knows that for Hannibal, this means - it’s hard to imagine it might mean as much as it does to Will. But even if it’s only a fraction, it must be overwhelming for him, too.

Their hands stay laced together. Will feels warm, enveloped. He doesn’t ever want to let go.

“Rest, Will. I will be here.”

Such simple words. Hannibal makes all of this seem so easy, sometimes. Will doesn’t know if he can come back from this. Every day makes it seem more and more unlikely.

For now, Will lets himself drift, warm, cared for. Maybe one day it won’t seem so extraordinary. Even if he were to have this every day for the rest of his life, he finds the idea just as unlikely as the thought that he could ever give it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to write some holiday fluff…! I couldn’t help myself (...maybe one day I'll write something with more substance) I think that Hannibal’s mild ambush is a better alternative to causing Will a mild seizure (my gift to this version of Will)
> 
> I am planning to do a few chapters featuring different prompts (this part is ugly sweaters + by the fire), I’m not sure if I’ll finish in time but I will do my best. Thank you for reading!!!


	2. every gesture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a quiet (fluffy) evening

“It’s probably going to start soon,” Will says, looking up at the sky. Most of the dogs are sticking close to the house; he has no doubt they’ll probably be just as eager to get back inside as Will.

“I believe we have a few more hours before it begins in earnest,” Hannibal replies, moving silently down the steps to stand beside him.

Will glances over. “Do you plan on waiting for it to begin in earnest? It’s not like you’re around the corner.”

“I am not,” Hannibal agrees. He waits another moment before adding, “Am I being asked to leave?”

Will stuffs his hands in his pockets, avoiding Hannibal’s gaze. “It’s stupid for you to stay. I don’t want you to get caught in the snow.”

Hannibal hums softly. They both watch the dogs for awhile before Hannibal shifts to stand in front of him. Will keeps his eyes fixed to the line of his shoulder.

“That would be foolish of me.” Hannibal waits until he looks at him properly, then smiles. “I will be on my way shortly. Why don’t you take the dogs inside, and I will join you in a moment?”

Will’s eyebrows crinkle in confusion. “Why would you want to stay out here any longer than you need to?”

“I must retrieve something from my car. I forgot it on the way in,” Hannibal replies smoothly.

Will eyes him, suspicious, then shrugs. It’s either his sketchbook, or a magical container full of leftovers that he wants to leave with Will. He doesn’t bother arguing against it.

The dogs barrel into the house as soon as he calls for them, nearly knocking him over in the process. Hannibal graciously doesn’t comment, merely makes his way to his car. Will shakes his head, chuckling as he kicks off his boots by the front door.

“It’s not gonna do you any favors if you break my neck,” he says to the room at large. His only answer is a variety of snuffles and sighs.

Once he’s settled back on the couch, Will closes his eyes and lets out his own sigh. He should’ve told Hannibal to go. It would’ve been the smart thing to do.

The front door opens, then closes quickly, an attempt to keep the draft from running straight through the house. Will fights a smile.

“Find what you were looking for?” he calls, tilting his head backwards.

He realizes Hannibal is much closer than he’d thought, and the fond look on his face sets something fizzling just beneath Will’s skin.

“I certainly have,” he says warmly. 

Will looks away after a moment, closing his eyes as he sinks deeper into the cushions. If he could keep on sinking, down into the floorboards, he wouldn’t mind it.

Hannibal joins him on the couch a minute later. He hadn’t heard him go into the kitchen, so it must be the sketchbook.

When he doesn’t hear the telltale sign of the pencil scratching across the page, Will’s curiosity gets the better of him. Hannibal is wearing a carefully blank expression when Will turns to the side. Will feels his own blank out as a wave of cold dread slices through him.

“We said we weren’t doing this.” 

Will’s heartbeat pounds loudly in his ears. The beautifully wrapped box in Hannibal’s hands doesn’t disintegrate despite the force of Will’s stare. Hannibal, for his part, looks remarkably at ease.

“I know that is what we agreed,” he begins, “and yet I could not help but think of you when I saw this. Please forgive me if I’ve caused offense.”

Will tries not to fidget. He knows he’s being an asshole right now. But they’d agreed, and now Hannibal’s gone and gotten him something anyway, and it’s going to completely overshadow the gift that Will had ended up buying for him. It seems that neither one of them had done any good at sticking to their agreement.

“It’s— it’s fine,” Will mutters, feeling silly. “I’m sorry. Thank you.”

Hannibal smiles warmly, the box lying forgotten in his lap as he leans toward Will. “You are quite welcome. Now please, do not keep me in suspense any longer. I must know what you think.”

With that, he passes over the box. Will’s stomach rolls over itself as he takes it in his hands.

Whatever it is, Will knows he’s going to like it. He can’t let himself think about why. It’s the anticipation of Hannibal’s gaze on him as he opens it, lays eyes on it for the first time, that has Will’s nerves jumpy.

“I…”

He doesn’t bother finishing his attempt at a sentence, instead focusing on opening the present for his captive audience. He carefully eases off the gift wrap, thick and lustrous as it is, unearthing a plain box with an unfamiliar logo in the center. When he glances up at Hannibal, he finds he’s being watched just as intently as he’d feared. It excites and agitates him at the same time.

Steeling himself, Will opens the lid. After brushing aside the tissue paper, he pauses. Then he places his hand over his face, unable to properly stifle his laugh.

“Hannibal.”

“Now you understand,” Hannibal says, almost playful. Will shoots him a weak glare over his hand. “I knew you simply must have it.”

Will can’t stop smiling. He removes the ridiculous sweater from the box, the warmth in his chest so large it’s almost another presence in the room. Now he can officially say he owns two ugly sweaters, one of a much finer quality than the other, though both feature a wide array of dogs. Naturally.

“I can’t picture you buying this,” Will says, stroking his hand over one of the arms. It’s extremely soft, and probably needs to be dry cleaned. Like Will’s going to actually remember to do that. He already knows he will. The inexplicable urge to put it on immediately is strong, but he ignores it. The holiday party had already passed, but next year - next year.

“I had hoped it would make you smile.” Hannibal reaches out, lays his hand over Will’s arm, and murmurs, “I was not disappointed.”

Will knows his face is flushed. He tries not to think about where they might be, next year, and lets himself lean into the soft press of Hannibal’s lips.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. Hannibal runs his hand down Will’s arm, to the inside of his elbow, before letting go and sitting back. Will attempts to refold the sweater, glancing down at the box on reflex.

He freezes, the blank envelope lying amidst the paper at the bottom causing an unnatural spike of anxiety. He tries to tell himself there’s no reason to panic, but his fingers curl tightly into the fabric in his hands without his consent.

“There’s nothing binding in the envelope, Will,” Hannibal says calmly. Will sees his hand twitch on his knee, like he wants to reach out to comfort with a touch, but holds himself back. Will wouldn’t mind something physical to ground him right now. He wishes he didn’t need it.

“For the opera?” he asks quietly, already knowing the answer. Hannibal taps his fingers against his knee once, twice, before Will finally releases his death grip on the sweater. No reply appears forthcoming. With a sigh, Will turns to face him, one hand shifting over Hannibal’s. 

“Plane tickets?” Will ventures, voice pitched lower still.

Hannibal looks strangely guilty. Will barely has time to process it before Hannibal’s hand turns beneath his, palm upward so he can loosely clasp their fingers together.

“It’s truly not binding. It can be changed, or canceled. Anything at all, Will.” He squeezes Will’s hand, raising it to press a kiss to his knuckles. Will lets out a little stuttered breath, chest suddenly tight. “I found myself wishing to extend the gesture, that is all.”

Hannibal’s eyes are warm and sincere, mouth still so very close to Will’s skin. His fingers twitch involuntarily, and Hannibal takes it as a sign to release him. That isn’t what he’d wanted.

Will hesitates for a long moment, heart thundering in his chest. He wants to close up the box, forget the last few minutes. Instead he reaches out, fingers curling against Hannibal’s shoulder, and pulls him close.

“Hannibal.” It’s all he can say. He closes his eyes, tips forward until their foreheads press together. 

It’s too much. This is - Will hadn’t wanted any grand gestures.

The heat of Hannibal’s quiet sigh warms his skin. Will fights a frown, made easier once Hannibal’s hand settles against the back of his neck.

“It may seem abrupt,” Hannibal says. “I do apologize for that. I understand that our acquaintance has been a relatively short one, in the eyes of society, let alone our friendship or—”

“Hannibal,” Will interrupts, opening his eyes. “That isn’t it.” He shakes his head minutely. He doesn’t know exactly what he wants to say. “It’s not abrupt.” 

He leans back a little so he can see Hannibal more clearly. It isn’t anything about abruptness, or suddenness, that has stirred up this avalanche of feeling. 

He thinks Hannibal knows that, deep down. That doesn’t make it any easier to put into words.

“Don’t you think I feel it, too?”

Will doesn’t name it, but he doesn’t have to.

Hannibal’s gaze changes, a slow, gradual shift. Fingers thread gently through Will’s hair, a sweet caress. The smallest of smiles tugs at his lips, eyes full of what might be wonder.

“Of course,” he says softly. “We wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

Will leans forward, thumb running idly along Hannibal’s jaw as he kisses him. He doesn’t linger, doesn’t want to lose himself before he says what he wants to say.

“Summer.”

Hannibal makes a small sound, tilting his head forward slightly. In inquiry, or in search of another kiss, Will can’t be sure. He allows himself a smile. Allows himself to think of summer, so many months away, and of next year’s holiday party, without shying away from it.

“I’ll have a little bit of time off for the summer break,” he clarifies. Hannibal blinks, but makes no move to respond, so Will continues, “Not much, but if I use some of my vacation time, that would give us a few weeks to—”

Hannibal interrupts him this time, a soft murmur of his name before he presses their mouths together again. Will’s eyelashes flutter shut, despite himself.

He holds Hannibal close, kisses him with all of the burgeoning emotion caught tightly in his chest, and feels Hannibal’s answer in the press of his lips and the warmth of his hands.

“I have a confession,” Hannibal whispers against his mouth.

“Hmm?” Will kisses the corner of his mouth, then the curve of his jaw.

“I’ve brought one more gift in with me.”

Will pauses in the careful trail of kisses he’d been leaving against warm skin.

“Hannibal,” he groans, burying his forehead against Hannibal’s shoulder.

Hannibal chuckles, laying a quick kiss to Will’s ear. He lets Will pull back without a fuss, expression devious as he lifts a much smaller box for Will to examine.

He waits until Will’s just about ready to wind himself in knots again to reveal, “It’s for the dogs.”

Will stares at him for a long moment. He honestly might just kill him.

But later. For now, Will laughs, accepting this box and placing it immediately to the side. “Very funny,” he mutters.

“I thought so.”

“You’re one of those people that can’t wait and has to hand off the gift as soon as you bought it, huh?” Will asks, shaking his head. 

He’d already agreed to dinner at Hannibal’s - just the two of them - in order to properly celebrate the holiday, which is when he’d been planning to unveil his own gift. He hadn’t quite been sure he’d have the nerve to hand it over, but he supposes he has to, now.

“I am capable of patience, Will. But I wanted to give it to you here,” Hannibal murmurs, fingers warm against his neck. “In your home, surrounded by your dogs. This little corner of the world you’ve made for yourself. I could not shake the vision from my mind.”

Will swallows.

He doesn’t have anything to say to that. Luckily Hannibal doesn’t seem to expect him to do anything more than lean into him. Will closes his eyes, places his hand over Hannibal’s chest, and breathes.

They stay close together, warm by the fire. Despite the tentative promise of traversing some unknown destination in a few months’ time, Will’s thoughts aren’t anywhere but here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just going to be pure holiday fluff, through and through. The prompts for this chapter - snow n ice + presents!
> 
> Thank you for indulging me, and taking the time to read!


	3. i've my heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a festive feast

It feels like a date.

It’s an absurd distinction to make after they’ve been - _together_ , as undefined as it may be, but Will can’t shake it. The fact is, Hannibal has been planning some elaborate holiday feast for just the two of them, and he’s ninety-five percent certain there will be after-dinner drinks, and Will’s going to have to fork over the present he’d bought at some point. It’s a date, and Will feels like he should match the amount of effort Hannibal is affording this event. Not that he doesn’t put in effort; this thing with Hannibal has been given more effort than he can properly articulate.

Still, Hannibal is preparing a beautiful holiday dinner, and the least Will can do is show up looking like he actually wants to be there. Which, perhaps surprisingly, he does.

He puts a tiny bit of product in his hair, just enough to smooth it out a little. His beard is trimmed neatly, shirt and pants already spread out on the bed while he dawdles in the bathroom, staring at his own neck.

With a grunt, he pushes away from the sink and goes to dig through one of his drawers. When he finds what he’s looking for, he wanders back into the bathroom. Trying not to think about it too much, Will applies the too-fancy cologne he can never really convince himself is appropriate for every day use at the Academy.

He brushes his teeth and finishes dressing quickly, taking a moment to eye himself in the mirror before he tends to the dogs one last time.

It’s been a long while since he’s dressed himself with someone else in mind. Will’s more than capable of presenting himself appropriately at more professional functions, as well as when he stands in front his classroom. But those are situations he’s molding himself into, and this, though undoubtedly a situation all its own, much more easily boils down to a person - Hannibal.

With nothing else to do, he takes a moment to unnecessarily straighten his collar. He doesn’t remember the last proper date he’d gone on, but Will can’t deny he looks good. Hopefully Hannibal will appreciate it.

Carefully pushing that thought out of his mind, Will fills the dogs’ bowls with fresh food and water, then takes them for a short romp outside. He thinks of all the times Hannibal has joined him out here, a steady presence at his side, one he’d never asked for. 

The dogs have grown to love him, in the way that dogs do; selflessly, whole-heartedly. Will’s eyelashes flutter closed, a small breath forced from his lungs. 

He presses cold fingertips over his eyelids. He needs to head out soon to ensure he arrives on time.

He whistles for the dogs, doing his best to avoid getting hair on his clothes as they wiggle past him. Not that it’s ever seemed to matter to Hannibal. He’s accepted most every part of Will, without hesitation. Will double and triple checks the dogs’ bowls, then forces himself outside.

In his half-dazed state, he nearly drives off without Hannibal’s present. He ducks back into the house and shushes the dogs, then hastily returns to the car with it tucked safely under his arm.

The distraction it provides on the passenger seat is fortunately not great enough to hinder Will’s driving capabilities. He keeps a close eye on the clock as well, relieved to see he’s making good time. If there’s anything he’s sure of, it’s that arriving late will displease Hannibal. Tonight, that’s the last thing he wants to do.

Will almost forgets the present on the seat once he arrives, halfway out of the car before he leans back in to snatch it. Holding it in his hands as he stands on the sidewalk almost feels scandalous. 

He tucks it under his arm again as he makes his way toward the house. Hannibal swings open the door so quickly after he presses the doorbell, Will’s sure he must have heard the car pull up and simply been waiting.

“Will,” he greets warmly. He assesses Will with keen eyes, no attempt whatsoever to disguise his interest. Will forces himself to remain still, relaxed. When their eyes meet, Hannibal seems to radiate pleasure.

He reaches out a hand to hold Will’s face, warming his chilled skin. “I believe this is one of those instances when I cannot help but make you aware that you have captivated my attention, as ever.”

Will doesn’t know how he manages to say things like that, and come across as smooth and sincere as he does.

“You look nice, too,” he murmurs back, returning the compliment as best as he can. He does, the crisp blood red shirt and dark jacket fitted to him as perfectly as anything else Will’s ever seen him wear.

Hannibal guides him in with a hand at his back, hanging his coat, as always. Will has nowhere to hide the wrapped box, so he simply raises it slightly and says, “I know I didn’t react well when you pulled it, and yet…”

Hannibal’s eyes twinkle. “I appreciate the sentiment, Will. Please know that you didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

He receives another appreciative look now that his coat has been removed. It’s getting a little difficult not to appear affected.

“So - anything I can do?” He can’t help but offer, though Hannibal had already told him beforehand he would handle everything. He’d instructed Will on the precise time to arrive for dinner, and not a moment before. The smell wafting through the house is testament enough that there would be very little for Will to do at this stage.

“Please seat yourself,” Hannibal replies. “I will bring the food out shortly.”

Will nods, fiddling with the present in his hands for a moment before walking off. There’s a reason he doesn’t care much for dates.

He makes a quick detour to the study, where he deposits Hannibal’s gift onto one of the side tables. Sitting with it on the dining room table while they eat seems unbearably tacky. A glance around the room doesn’t reveal any other noticeable presents for Will, for which he is immensely grateful.

By the time he’s seated in the dining room, taking in the beautiful centerpiece Hannibal’s put together, he’s feeling decidedly calmer. At least until a few minutes later when Hannibal himself enters the room. 

“I hope you are hungry,” he says, brandishing the fruits of what Will is sure is many hours of labor in his hands.

“I wouldn’t dream of showing up without my appetite,” Will replies honestly.

It had been the right thing to say. He sets Will’s plate in front of him with a flourish, eyes warm in the candlelight, and Will feels his throat constrict.

“I consider myself most fortunate,” Hannibal murmurs. Will holds his gaze for as long as he can, then glances down at his plate.

“It smells amazing,” he says once Hannibal has seated himself.

“Thank you, Will,” he replies pleasantly. He appears in an exceedingly good mood. Will lets it wash over him, the rest of his nerves leaving him in a long, quiet exhale.

“I don’t know how you’ve had time for anything else with all of the cooking you’ve been doing lately.”

The corner of Hannibal’s mouth twitches upward. “It takes a careful amount of planning, but I believe I’ve managed it.”

“Modesty doesn’t become you, Doctor,” Will teases, cutting the meat on his plate. It’s so tender he’s sure he could cut it simply with his fork. He wonders briefly what Hannibal’s reaction to that would be.

Hannibal inclines his head. “I hadn’t expected to find myself chastised in my own home.”

“How _do_ you put up with it?” Will asks, shaking his head.

“With humility and grace, I would hope.” Hannibal’s eyes are warm with humor. Will has the sudden thought that there is nowhere else he’d rather be, right now. The alarm he expects to feel at the realization doesn’t come.

He turns his attention back to his plate, turning the thought over in his head. Even after examining it from every angle, it settles just as enticingly in his chest as Hannibal’s food on his tongue.

“This is quite a presentation.” Will gestures toward the table with one hand. He takes a sip of wine, unsurprised to find that it complements the meal perfectly. He’d thought about bringing a bottle, but had been certain Hannibal would’ve planned everything down to the last detail. “I can only imagine what this place looked like a few nights ago.”

“If only there had been a way to sate this curiosity,” Hannibal returns, raising an eyebrow. Will knows he hadn’t truly been offended that the invitation had been declined. Still, Will doesn’t really expect anything less than for Hannibal to poke at him about the decision. He can envision Hannibal’s titillation at observing Will in a new situation so vividly, he almost shakes his head to clear it away.

“If only,” he says dryly.

“I am always pleased to have you at my table,” Hannibal says graciously.

Will huffs a quiet laugh. “I suppose I enjoy being here.”

Hannibal smiles, eyes lowering. The reaction speaks solely of unrestrained pleasure, and strikes Will as incredibly charming. He wouldn’t quite call it bashful, but perhaps something close to it.

The desire to reach across the table is one he swiftly quashes down. There will be time for things like that later. At least, Will hopes there will be, another revelation that doesn’t unsettle him in the slightest.

He allows Hannibal another moment before asking, “So tell me, how was the big party?”

“I would say that it went quite well,” he replies evenly.

Will’s mouth tilts upward in a half-smile. “I’m sure that’s an understatement. I have no doubt everyone will be talking about it until you outdo yourself next year.”

Hannibal chuckles softly. “You flatter me.” He lifts his wine glass, savoring the experience as Will has so often seen him do. Once he lowers his glass again he adds, “I am unsure if I will host again next year, however.”

“Oh?” Will glances upward. 

Hannibal doesn’t answer right away. It’s not that unusual; the food is the main event, after all.

“I found my attention divided,” he says eventually.

Will has his mouth open to reply, but snaps it shut when their eyes meet. That Hannibal had been more invested in this evening goes unsaid, though it hangs thickly in the air around them.

Will takes a long sip of his own wine. He’s tempted to drain the whole glass at this point, but that would be rude.

He makes it through the rest of the meal, somehow. It all seems to pass by in a blur. There’s an intensity to Hannibal’s gaze every time their eyes meet across the table that has Will’s heart rate spiking dangerously.

“I thought we could take dessert in the study,” Hannibal says once their plates are cleared.

Will nods, thoughts drifting to the gift he’d stashed in there earlier. He wonders how long he can put off the exchange.

“Did you make cookies?” Will asks as seriously as he can muster, rising from the table. Hannibal catches him by the elbow, his head tilted slightly downward. All attempts at joking slide from Will’s mind like water through the stream.

He waits, skin buzzing. Hannibal doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Hannibal?”

The moment breaks. Hannibal backs away just slightly, smoothing a hand over his tie. It’s as close to a fidget as Will thinks he’ll ever see. 

“Please, go make yourself comfortable.”

Will wants to say something in response, but ends up just standing there. He watches Hannibal’s back as he returns to the kitchen, wondering what that had been about. A slight uneasiness clouds his thoughts before he can help it.

Still, it doesn’t take long to cast it aside. He hadn’t been imagining the atmosphere tonight. Will thinks of asking Hannibal about the last date he’d been on, and laughs quietly at the thought of the ensuing conversation. He’s not sure he’d make it through without another drink.

He sits in the study and waits for Hannibal to return with dessert. Even though he won’t ask the other man something like that, more than aware of the can of worms the question would open, Will can’t help thinking he wouldn’t mind having it all, with Hannibal. The thought warms the back of his neck, heat spreading until it curls in the pit of his stomach. Luckily it recedes by the time Hannibal joins him.

“Not cookies,” Will murmurs, accepting the small plate.

“Not cookies,” Hannibal affirms, hand falling to Will’s shoulder. He squeezes gently. “I will strive to remember for next year.”

The heat returns, warming Will inside and out. He smiles helplessly, tilting his head to lean into Hannibal’s arm.

“Come sit down,” he says.

Hannibal's thumb brushes his neck gently before pulling away. Will doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stop smiling for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops I accidentally added another chapter to the total…! I kinda like having these as bite-sized chapters, so I decided to break up the final two prompts. The last part will definitely be just that, the last!
> 
> Thanks for sticking around for more softness (I am drowning in it hhhh) Happy holidays, if you celebrate - if not, happy weekend♥️!


	4. in my mouth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> starry night (note: this directly follows the previous chapter)

Before sitting down, Hannibal walks over to the record player. Quiet music fills the room before long. He’s never set their evenings to a soundtrack before. Will almost wants to poke fun at the man’s need to set a scene, but truthfully, he doesn’t mind it.

“I hope you aren’t opposed,” Hannibal says, turning around.

Will shakes his head. “I’ll let you know if that changes.”

Hannibal pours two drinks before finally joining him. Will takes a sip, raising his eyebrows at the rich quality that hits his tongue.

“That’s good.”

“I thought you would enjoy it,” Hannibal replies, pleased. Will wonders what else he might have planned, beyond dinner; he’d half-expected Hannibal to offer his hand after he’d gotten the music going.

“You’ve thought of everything.” Will wants to say more - that it hadn’t been necessary, he would be perfectly content if Hannibal had revealed they’d be having takeout upon his arrival. He manages to swallow back the words.

Naturally Hannibal is able to read it in his face, and feels the need to address it. “I relish the opportunity to share this with you, Will. I know you value your comfort, but I hope that you are able to find that same feeling this evening.”

Will fiddles with his glass. It isn’t comfort that he would pinpoint as the main thing he’s felt tonight, but it is there. In these moments with Hannibal, it’s nearly impossible for that not to be the case. It’s something that’s evolved slowly but surely, over time.

“I think that’s out of my control,” he says. There’s a moment of quiet, a crackle of the record turning, before another song begins. He considers his next words, whether he should drown them in fine whiskey.

When he looks up, Hannibal is gazing into his own drink, contemplative. Will wants to know what he’s thinking, always wants to. Wanting Hannibal seems like the only thing he’s ever chosen for himself, and he’s not sure whether he’d had any choice in it all. It doesn’t seem like it, most of the time.

Will doesn’t want to hold anything back. At the same time, he wants to shield the vulnerable parts of himself as closely as he always has.

Still torn, Will confesses, “I feel that with you, regardless.”

The admission swells in the space between them, settles about the room. Hannibal keeps his gaze downward, lips parted slightly.

Will takes a long drink before putting his glass to the side, knowing he’ll finish it off if he keeps it in his hands. Hannibal could use this against him. All along, every time Will has peeled back another layer of himself, Hannibal could turn around and decide that Will’s worth more as a curiosity to him, as an interesting brain to pick through and diagnose.

He already knows he won’t. Knows it before Hannibal turns, before their eyes meet, the weight of his gaze nearly suffocating. 

He watches Will with something akin to awe, to ardor, when he murmurs, “I believe it is the same for me.”

They are both an unusual exception for the other. If Will can’t imagine giving up this thing they’ve cultivated between them, Hannibal wouldn’t be able to, either. A shared selfishness, heady and exhilarating.

Will swallows, throat dry.

Hannibal shifts, tilts his head just so, and saves them from further dangerous admissions when he asks lightly, “Shall we?”

Will nods, suddenly remembering the plate in his lap.

They tuck away their dessert, something sweet that soothes the tightness in his throat. It’s quiet save for the music, but not uncomfortable. Their shared silence often feels like another facet of conversation between them.

Once they’ve finished, Hannibal wastes no time in clearing away their dishes. When he returns, he immediately retrieves Will’s gift.

“Ah,” he says, shifting slightly in his seat. “I was hoping you forgot about that.”

“I must admit I am intrigued.” Hannibal runs a finger along one edge. Will is grateful that he’d taken advantage of the gift-wrapping service and not attempted to do it himself.

“This isn’t exactly my forte,” Will warns. He’s never been the gift-giving type. That requires a certain level of expectation from both parties; he does his best to discourage it from his end.

“And what would be your forte?”

Will snorts. “What do you think?”

“I’d like to know what you think,” Hannibal replies. Maddening, when he wants to be.

Will taps his fingers against his knee. Hannibal watches him, unperturbed.

He sighs, lying his hand flat. “Death, wrapped up in a neat little bow. That’s usually what I’m handing off.”

“Is that what you think?”

“That’s what I’m giving Jack.”

Hannibal’s gaze flicks downward. “And is that what you’ve gifted me?”

“Would you open it if I had?”

Hannibal rests his palm over Will’s gift, a deliberate gesture, yet he doesn’t spare it another glance. His eyes are on Will. 

He’d been irritated when he’d asked the question, but he feels a sudden certainty that Hannibal would accept that from him, just as he’s accepted everything else. The knowledge makes his scalp prickle. Hannibal would find beauty in it. Will knows he would. A shared madness, most would call it.

He doesn’t want to go down that murky road. Not now. Will shakes off the weight of Hannibal’s gaze, casts his own off to the side.

“Well, go ahead. Put me out of my misery.”

Hannibal takes long enough to answer that Will ends up looking at him properly. No doubt what he’d intended, yet Will does it anyway.

“Do you imagine I won’t like it?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

“God, Hannibal.” Will waves his hand, an impatient wiggle that surely betrays his nerves. “Just open it, before I take it back.”

Hannibal hums disapprovingly. “That implies I would allow you to do so.”

The image of Hannibal playing keep away with Will’s present is enough to make him crack a smile.

“Alright, alright. Just give it to me straight.” Will laces his fingers together. “I can always return it.”

“I will give you my honest opinion, rest assured,” Hannibal says gravely.

Will struggles not to roll his eyes. He almost expects Hannibal to torture him by unwrapping it as slowly as possible, but he manages it quickly and efficiently. Once the book is unearthed, he turns it over in his hands.

Somehow he feels calmer now that Hannibal is actually holding it. He leans forward a bit as Hannibal runs his fingers gently along the spine.

“A sketchbook?” he inquires, glancing up at Will.

“Yeah.” Will watches him open it, probably to inspect the pages. “I don’t know much about it, but the guy at the shop assured me this one was really high quality.”

Hannibal’s small smile is directed downward, where his fingers stroke one of the pages. “Indeed. Thank you, Will.”

Will leans back again, hands hanging between his knees. “Not the most original gift, but I thought you’d at least be able to use it.”

“I certainly shall,” Hannibal replies, closing the sketchbook carefully and placing it off to the side. He reaches out to take one of Will’s hands in both of his. 

Will’s stomach lurches. The intensity from earlier has seemed to return full force.

“Thank you for joining me this evening, Will.”

He keeps his hand lax, carefully cradled between Hannibal’s. The music seems to fade away into nothingness. 

There isn’t anything except for the two of them. It feels like he’s being drawn in, the charge between them inescapable.

“Of course,” Will replies. “I wanted to.” 

He had. He’d been looking forward to this evening more than he’d wanted to admit, but there’s no reason not to.

Hannibal’s eyes soften. He slowly raises Will’s hand to kiss his knuckles, then tilts it further to press his lips against Will’s wrist. His pulse races wildly, far beyond his control. Hannibal’s eyelids drift closed, and he stays pressed to Will’s skin for a long moment.

“Hannibal,” he murmurs, breathless.

His hand is not released just yet. Hannibal drags his lips back around to his knuckles, thumb pressed to the steady thrum in Will’s wrist. When he finally lets go and pulls away, Will feels like he’s run a mile.

“Would you like to join me for a walk? It is a clear night, and I believe the stars may be visible.”

Will’s brain takes a moment to process the request. “Romantic,” he mutters, unsure if he’d meant it in admonishment or approval. The way Hannibal smiles, a hint of white teeth, makes him think maybe it had come across as both.

They bundle up in their coats and gloves; Hannibal opens the door and waits for Will to step through it. It feels a little like he’s observing the events from outside of his own body.

They cold brings him back to himself. The stars are just about visible, and Will can’t help a smile.

“They’re much clearer in Wolf Trap,” he notes.

Hannibal chuckles. “Yes, though I had thought you would appreciate this view, nonetheless.”

Will does. He appreciates all of it. Hannibal’s fingers brush against his as they head off.

There’s a bit of snow on the ground, but the path they walk along is clear. Will’s never spent much time outside of Hannibal’s, hasn’t had the chance to take in the quiet seclusion of his neighborhood for any extended period. It’s a different sort of seclusion than the kind afforded at his own home; this one is a fortress built of wealth and connections.

Even so, Will doesn’t feel out of place. They don’t pass anyone on their walk, though Will does take note of a doghouse in one of the ostentatious front yards. He amuses himself with thoughts of what Hannibal would deem necessary in the design of a doghouse; he has a feeling it would go in the back of the house, regardless.

They make a leisurely lap around the block before coming to a stop not far from the house, Hannibal just slightly behind him. Will sighs softly, tilting his head back. Romantic, indeed.

“Are you cold?” Hannibal murmurs. His arm wraps gently around Will’s front, though he makes no move to pull him closer.

Will shakes his head. “It’s fine.” Hannibal’s other arm enfolds him, and Will raises one hand to stroke his fingers along his arm. He doesn’t want to go back inside just yet.

His head feels clear, a lightness in his chest that spreads through to his limbs. Having something like this is - Will can’t wrap his head around it. It makes little sense, and yet he can’t imagine being anywhere else. He shifts his head slightly, pressing back into Hannibal just a little more.

“I thought you might ask me to dance earlier,” Will says. It would have fit perfectly into the picture so attentively painted in the study.

Hannibal makes a soft sound, cradling him closer. “Would you have agreed?”

Will hums thoughtfully, slides his foot to nudge against Hannibal’s. “I might’ve.” 

He knows he would have. If Hannibal were to ask him right now, Will doesn’t think he’d be able to say no.

“Will,” Hannibal sighs, fond. His nose presses to the skin behind Will’s ear, so very close. Will doesn’t know how it feels like they’re still not quite close enough. That Hannibal feels just the same is evident in the line of his body, the warmth of his breath. 

Hannibal tilts his face downward, a slow, deliberate path, before inhaling noticeably against Will’s neck. The sudden heat that shoots through Will at that has him momentarily reeling, fingers digging into Hannibal’s arm.

“You smell wonderful,” Hannibal murmurs softly, lips brushing the side of his neck. Will tries not to shiver. “I caught a hint of it earlier, but against your skin, it’s even more intoxicating.”

“Hannibal,” Will manages, some sort of breathy sound following the other man’s name. The cold air is unable to touch him in Hannibal’s arms. When he tilts his head backward, Hannibal nuzzles into the curve of his neck, one hand traveling up Will’s chest, and inhales again.

Will’s other hand moves on its own, fingers curling against the back of Hannibal’s head to hold him in place. His whole body feels alight, a rapidly building fire he can’t hope to extinguish.

“Hannibal,” he says again, or he thinks he does. It’s the only word left rattling around in his head. Either way, Hannibal is breathing him in, shameless, fingers spread possessively near the base of his throat, and Will thinks he might just go crazy from it.

“I am enraptured by you,” Hannibal breathes, holding him, covetous. “Confounded by you. I do not know where the line that separates us lies any longer. You lurk behind every corner of my mind.”

The dark, possessive edge to the words should scare Will, but a matching surge of feeling quickens in his chest. His fingers curl in Hannibal’s hair, his other hand grabs at his arm, desperate. “I know,” he says, “I know.”

Hannibal lets out a shuddery breath against his neck. Relieved, to be understood; euphoric that Will is haunted by it, too.

He stares dazedly at the night sky as Hannibal mouths at his skin, a building wave of pleasure sparking in the haze of Will’s mind. The sensual caress continues up Will’s neck, and his eyelashes flutter, unable to remain open.

“God.” He twists his fingers in Hannibal’s hair, tilts his head back further, dizzy with it, all of it.

Hannibal’s arm around his waist tightens, and he pauses his current ministrations in order to dig his nose into the curve of Will’s neck again. Like he can’t help himself. Will all out shivers, toes curling in his shoes, and suddenly it’s not enough.

He manages to untangle himself after a few failed attempts, Hannibal seemingly unwilling to let him go, and spins around to face him.

“God, Hannibal, you—” 

Will takes in the heated gaze, the sheen of his lips, and lets out a frustrated groan. He winds his fingers through Hannibal’s hair again, ruffled from his previous hold. Hannibal lets him, stays still while Will touches him. His other hand lands along the curve of Hannibal’s neck. Hannibal’s eyes are dark, fathomless. 

They watch each other, the air thick, buzzing. Will carefully presses his thumb against the front of his Adam’s apple and feels the other man’s swallow.

“Will,” he mutters, sounding lost, and Will presses his thumb in again, caresses the tender skin there. Hannibal closes his eyes and parts his lips, an invitation Will can’t bring himself to ignore. He moans the moment Will’s mouth meets his, hands rising to clutch at his arms.

Will kisses him wildly, urgently, both hands tangled in Hannibal’s hair before long. Hannibal cradles his face with one hand and presses firmly against the small of his back with the other, clearly unwilling for there to be even an inch of space between them. Will finds himself in utter agreement.

There had been a crackling electricity brewing long before they’d left the house, but Will hadn’t expected it to erupt into this. He feels frantic, out of control.

He’s not used to wanting like this, to being wanted, in return. Hannibal kisses him like he wants to consume every part of him, had pressed close and lost himself in the scent of Will’s skin. Heat coils up in his belly, a deep yearning that tightens his own hold on Hannibal.

They break apart briefly to breathe. Hannibal licks his own bottom lip, eyelids low. Will repeats the motion, slower, blatant, and Hannibal’s gaze zeroes in with such intensity Will has to stifle a chuckle.

Hannibal drifts forward, fingers sliding into Will’s hair. He tilts Will’s head just slightly, whispering into his ear. “I think perhaps we should move inside, lest we give the neighbors quite a show.”

Will huffs out a laugh, finding the idea amusing rather than mortifying. He’s used to being stared at for far more unsavory reasons than this. 

“I don’t know the last time I got caught necking, Hannibal.” He presses his smile against Hannibal’s neck. “I think you might be a bad influence.”

“I am afraid the fault lies entirely with you, Will,” Hannibal murmurs. His fingers caress Will’s scalp gently, tenderly, and Will can’t help leaning into it. “That I ever resisted you at all is testament to the depths of my self control.”

Will’s face feels warm. “When exactly were you resisting?” he mutters.

“Since the moment we met,” Hannibal says, leaning back at the same time he uses his hold to guide Will to meet his lips.

Will doesn’t believe it for an instant; their first meeting had been a disaster, but the thought of Hannibal being drawn to him since the very beginning is enough to make his heart stutter in his chest.

The stars are still shining in the sky when they pull apart. Whatever nosy neighbors may or may not be watching them are still getting quite a show. Most of all, Will still desperately wants to kiss Hannibal, wants to wind their bodies together and press close, wants to feel him everywhere.

“Would you like to come back inside with me?” Hannibal asks, blinking slowly. He strokes Will’s back carefully, a lingering touch that Will wants to feel beneath the layer of his coat. He shivers slightly, then nods, knowing Hannibal can feel the motion with how they’re pressed together.

“Yes.” He presses his nose to Hannibal’s cheek, just below his fluttering eyelashes, and smiles. “Just so you know, I don’t buy that ‘since the moment we met’ line at all.”

Hannibal pulls back slightly, meeting his eyes with a quirked brow. “Is that so?”

Will nods, raising his own eyebrow. “Endearing, for sure, but I don’t believe it.”

Hannibal’s teeth flash in a smile. “How you doubt me,” he says, sounding delighted. “Shall I tell you what I found most attractive about you in that first meeting?”

Will blanches, trying not to show his discomfort too obviously. “Whatever it was, I’m pretty sure it had more to do with curiosity over the inner workings of my brain than anything else.”

Hannibal eyes him thoughtfully. Will regrets the words, despite the truth that may lie in them. Souring a memory Hannibal has obviously held with fondness hadn’t exactly been his intention.

Before he can say anything else, Hannibal leans in to press his lips to his forehead. His palm moves up Will’s back, then downward. 

“I disagree,” he murmurs against Will’s skin. “One day, I will tell you all of the things I find myself entranced by when it comes to you.” 

Will’s fingers bunch tightly in the front of Hannibal’s coat. He shifts a little to press his face into Hannibal’s neck, just for a moment. Will doesn’t need him to. He already has what he needs. 

“Let’s go inside,” he murmurs.

“Of course.”

Hannibal stays close as they return to the house, their steps meandering unnecessarily to extend the short walk. When Will reaches out to lay a hand on Hannibal’s back, the other man’s arm loops securely around him in turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends this journey into holiday fluff… it’s been fun and extremely self-indulgent to write, so thank you for sticking around♥️!
> 
> I still feel odd writing such soft Hannibal fic?? I guess I just need to get the desire for their happiness out in the form of softer, happier AU. Thank you so much for taking the time to read their winter romance, and know that they’ll be falling in love in the spring, and summer, and everything after that!


End file.
